The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Light and Shadows VI: Blinded By The Light

by J. Darksong

Ch. 6: Becoming Fragile

“Your MOM... is OMEGA GIRL?!?” Whitney exclaimed, wide eyed.

“Um, yeah,” I said, biting my lip slightly as I focused on pulling the damned knot around my left ankle loose. “I kind of thought you put all the pieces together when you figured out I was Luminaire. Yes, Omega Girl is my mom. I mean, my powers are kind of a less powerful version of hers, after all.”

Whitney just shook her head. “Wow. I mean... wow. So your mom, that normal, demure little brunette woman who was always trying to get us to try her really awful homemade cookies, is really the ‘Blond Bombshell’?”

I grimaced slightly. “Yeah, well, truth be told, mom isn’t exactly the best cook. She tries hard enough... but mostly, she just used us as guinea pigs to try and perfect her recipes.” Success! Three limbs free, one left to go! “And by the way, she’s really a blonde, like me. She wears a brunette wig around the house.” I frowned slightly. “I think she used to have dark brown hair once, but it turned permanently golden blonde a few years back.” I shrugged. “Dunno the details, but it just kind of stuck. It’s just one of those things you never really think about.”

“Wow. So, like, does your Dad know?”

“Huh? Know what?”

“That he’s married to a super hero!”

I blinked, somewhat surprised by the question. Was she really this dense? “Um, yeah, of course he knows!” I exclaimed. “He’s one too, after all.“

“WHAT?!?”

“Armor Man,” I informed her, cutting through the barrage of questions. “That’s my dad. No, no super powers, but a costumed crime fighter nonetheless.” I shrugged again. When you wore a multifunctional invincible suit that allowed you to fly, shoot beams from your hands, and bench press fifty tons, who needed super powers?

“I see,” she replied, deep in thought. “So... what about your older brother? You know, that surly Goth guy that was two grades ahead of us in school? I guess he has powers as well?”

“You guessed it. Jimmy goes by the name ‘Darklight’ these days,” I said, smiling despite myself. I’d always hoped he would join in the ‘family business’ as it were, and though it had taken a while, he had finally accepted the fact that he was meant to be a spandex wearing hero like the rest of us. “And anyway, he’s not THAT much older than me. Twenty seconds isn’t all that much.”

Now Whitney looked at me as if I were the dense one. “Twenty seconds? Are you trying to say you’re both the same age or something, like you’re twins?”

“Yeah. And yeah, we are twins.“

“No, you’re not.”

“Um, yes we are!” I insisted, frowning a bit. “I should know. I shared the same cramped living space with the guy for nearly nine months! Besides, you remember when we were little. We looked exactly alike!” It was kind of difficult for most people to understand, let alone to accept. Jimmy and I were not just twins, we were Identical twins. Which means, we’re basically the same person. We started off as one, then split into twins, one boy, and one girl. It’s exceedingly rare, I hear. I did some research a while back, and it’s like out of all the twins ever conceived, only like seventy-three in a hundred thousand twins born ever split and formed different sexes.

Of course, I couldn’t say how many of those twins were conceived thanks to the magical intervention of a Silver skinned heroine with witchy powers, or a mother with the power to twist and manipulate destiny.

“But... you don’t look anything alike now,” she pointed out, frowning, crossing her arms. “For one thing, he’s a lot taller than you. And bigger. He’s like a... a brick with arms and legs. You’re more like a Malibu Barbie doll, just without the long legs.”

Ah, so we were back to the insults again. Huh. At least she didn’t call me ‘Skipper’ Barbie’s younger sister. Still, more focused on freeing my foot from its remaining bondage, I decided to let the short joke slide. “We were identical until his powers manifested. We’re not usually born with our powers turned on, you know. It usually doesn’t kick in until puberty, but when it does, well... the changes are sometimes pretty obvious.” I was actually a little bit envious. Sure, Jimmy’s life growing up had been anything but a bed of roses, but at the same time, he bore a very unique mark of his birthright. He was dark; dark hair, dark eyes... even his personality was dark. To me, the coolest thing was his eyes, which were black. Not brown or merely dark. BLACK. Inky black, the same color as the dark ethereal tendrils he wielded.

Mom had fourteen carat gold hair. Jimmy had black inky pool eyes. Aurora had a metallic glint to her skin, even when she wasn’t metal, and Sylvia’s hair and eyes carried a vibrant purple and silver tint, just like her both of her moms’. All things considered, I looked boringly normal. Unless you considered being ‘extraordinarily cute enough to pinch my cheeks on a regular basis’ an abnormal and unique quality.

“AH! Finally!” I announced triumphantly, as the last knot finally pulled free. I bobbed my foot up and down a few times and wiggled my toes. “Gah... dammit. My foot’s asleep. It’s not bad enough being forced to roam around stark naked, now I have to do it with that pins and needles feeling running up and down my leg.”

“Tch, fine, you big baby,” Whitney said, sitting down on the bed, pulling my foot into her lap before I could protest. “All you need to do is rub a bit of circulation back into it and you’ll be fine.” Suiting word to action, she began rubbing. I was a bit surprised; I hadn’t expected the gesture, and she was actually really good at massage. Despite my initial misgivings, she was good at this, and it was feeling remarkably good. Almost... too good. I had to bite my lip to keep from moaning, as she began pressing the heel of her palm against my arch, pushing gently but firmly, stretching the muscles and tendons, before gently working her way up and down my foot.

I wouldn’t say I have a thing for feet, exactly, but I do enjoy having mine rubbed. Jess, who was either somewhat phobic about feet, or simply turned off by the idea, refused to play with mine. And, after all the tricks I’d played, and all our silly little tickle fights, she pretty much refused to let me play with hers. But I have to say, what Whitney was doing with her very talented fingers, was making me reconsider the whole thing...

“How’s that feel?”

I blinked, not really noticing that I’d closed my eyes. I opened my mouth to ask what, but a deep moan escaped my lips instead as she pressed lightly into a particular spot that made my clit twitch. Immediately, she drew back. standing up from the bed, looking at me with wide eyes. I blushed deeply, not knowing what to say. The stimulation had hardened my nipples, and I could smell my own arousal. The fact that I’d been turned on was unmistakable.

“Whitney,” I began, hesitantly, when suddenly Whitney moved, surging towards me. This time, my eyes widened in surprise, as the blonde pressed me back down to the bed, her lips pressing tightly against my own. Already turned on, I didn’t offer much resistance, my mouth opening to allow her tongue in. My breathing hitched as her hands caressed and stroked my inner thighs, finding all the tender sensitive spots. “Whit... Whitney,” I gasped as we broke the kiss, coming up for air. “What... why...?”

“Shhh!” she hissed, kissing me again, using her knee to spread my legs wider apart, brushing up against my clit, again stealing the breath from my lungs. “I’ve wanted... god.. wanted to do this... since the day I got back from Florida!” She groaned softly, sliding down my body, kissing and nibbling all the way, until her head was nestled deep between my thighs.

I was almost there, too. I was just about ready to let go, to embrace whatever was happening, to submit to Whitney’s advances, when another loud shockwave shook the room. My eyes flashed open with clarity. Mommy! She’s out there... fighting... trying to rescue me. I... I have to help her! With more willpower than I thought I had, I pushed Whitney away, panting and gasping, but resolute.

“No... stop. Whitney... we can’t... do this, right now... not now!”

Pain flashed momentarily across her face, before her shields came down again, and she glared at me with her usual angry disdain. “You’re... rejecting me? After sharing all that shit with you, bearing my soul to you, you push me away... like I’m not GOOD enough for you—”

I pulled her to me then, giving her a deep passionate kiss, holding her even as she tried to pull away, until at last, her struggling stopped. “I’m not rejecting you, Whit,” I said softly. “It’s just... this isn’t the right place or time to do this. My mom is outside, fighting the ‘Psycho Bitch’, and without her powers, she’s as vulnerable as you or me. We have to get out of here somehow and help her.”

Taking a deep breath, Whitney nodded. “I’m sorry. You’re right.” Standing up, she walked back to the door, pulling on it, testing it, while I began ripping apart the bed sheet I was lying on. “Well, it’s locked tight. Not sure what we can do to help your mom while we’re on lockdown.”

“Well, I have an idea,” I said, wrapping a few of the smaller strips around me like a pale, ragged sarong, covering myself up. “From the look of the walls, door, and the bed, I’d say we’re in the old abandoned Maximum Security Prison, the one they decommissioned after the new facility was set up a few years back.”

Whitney nodded. “Yeah, so?”

“So,” I continued, grabbing the discarded ropes, tying them together as well, “we took a field trip here in junior high, remember? The guard showed us how they used to secure and unlock the cell doors, and I remember he mentioned that old Nicholas Cage movie, The Rock... you know, as in Alcatraz?“

Whitney perked up. “Wait... I saw that movie. Yeah... now that I think about it... Sean Connery was the thief, and he and Cage ended up locked up in the prison cell, with those military guys about to launch the missile into the city.” She nodded slowly, as the pieces fell into place. “You really think that will work here?”

Holding up the pieced-together rope and bed sheet line I’d created, I shrugged. “I dunno, but it’s the best chance we have. All I can say is that it’s going to take a little bit of patience, a lot of persistence... and a hell of a lot of luck!”

* * *

Back inside the Frasier house, Jessica sat on the couch in the entertainment room, sliding her thumb idly across the remote, flipping from channel to channel, far too distracted by her thoughts to pay the programs whizzing by more than a momentary glance. Foremost in her mind was worry about Katie, her lover, her soul mate, and getting her back alive and safe. Second was worry for Mrs. Frasier, who had flown off to save Katie and bring her back, despite the fact that the enemy she was facing could completely neutralize her powers and render her virtually helpless. And, as much as she tried to banish the thought, images of Lacie Frasier, standing nude before her merely moments ago, kept intruding.

Dammit! she growled inwardly in frustration. What the hell is wrong with me? She’s my best friend/girlfriend’s mother! Hell, as much time as I’ve spent over here during the years, she’s practically MY mother! She sighed softly, remembering that brief glimpse of her body, golden tanned skin, flawlessly smooth... a trim, flat stomach, her abs neatly defined, but not excessive, expertly walking the line between strength and femininity. And her thighs, supple yet toned, almost glistening in the ambient room light...

And... between them—

Gah! Goddammit! Really! What is wrong with me? I’ve never thought of Mrs. Frasier like this before. Am I suddenly such a horny little slut that a momentary flash of T&A has me obsessing? And... what would Katie think if she knew what I was obsessing over? The thought made her cringe slightly, but her lust-filled mind wasn’t done yet. The thought of Katie’s reaction shifted swiftly into the realm of fantasy, to the idea of both of them together, mother and daughter, with her, Jessica, right there in the middle, kissing, nibbling, sucking... fucking. A soft groan escaped her lips, and the remote slid to the couch as her hand slipped deftly inside her jeans.

Mmmm... so naughty... and yet... so very possible... her cousins obviously don’t have issues with loving family members, if Sylvie was any indication. And... and Katie did mention that her mom and Sylvia’s had been intimate before... mmmmm... maybe it’s a family trait... The image in her head expanded now to include a naked Sylvia, whose body she knew quite well by now, and the imagined forms of her sister and mother, who she knew only by reputation, but could very well imagine every sensuous curve. As the orgy taking place in her mind heated up, her arousal, and her frantic teasing of her pussy kept pace. Gaaaawwwd... I am so fucked up! she thought to herself as she reached her peak and her toes began to curl.

Panting, Jessica had only just come down from the sexual high when the doorbell rang. Jumping up, straightening her clothes, she ran towards the front door. The doorbell rang again, and she sighed, rolling her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, hold your horses, I’m coming!” she yelled out as she crossed the foyer. Opening the door partway, she peeked out. “Yes, what I can do for you?” she began, only to gasp in shock, taking a step back. “What the hell?” she exclaimed, staring at a mirror image of herself. “You... you’re me!”

“Naw, not quite,” the other Jessica replied in her voice, smirking at her the way she always did. “I’m not really you, just a substitute for the time being.” She giggled, the same way the real Jessica giggled. “But substitute or not, I’m better than the real thing.” Pushing open the door, she walked into the house, glancing around. “Hmm. Nice place. Expected something bigger, though... flashier. I mean, when you’re holding down the kind of cash these guys do, you’d think they would live in a mansion or something.”

“What is going on here?” Jessica asked, angrily, hands clenched into fists. “Who the hell are you? And why do you look and sound just like me?”

The faux-Jessica smiled, reaching behind her back. “My, my my, sweetie,” she said with a giggle. “You’re just full of questions, aren’t you?” Pulling out the object from behind her back, she held it up to Jessica’s face. “Perhaps this will answer them for you?”

Jessica blinked, finding herself staring into a large glass eye. As she stared at it in confusion, it rose, floating up out of the woman’s hand, beginning to glow with a warm soft light. And then it began to spin, slowly at first, then steadily faster, faster, faster. Jessica’s mouth gaped open as she found herself drawn into its gaze... it’s hypnotic spinning gaze. N....no! It’s... it’s hyp... notizing... me... I need to... look away... need to... need to... need... She blinked, her thoughts disconnected, unable to complete it, lost only in the fact that there was something important that she needed to do... needed to remember... though in time even that thought degraded to only the vague awareness that she needed something...

Her doppelganger smiled evilly, an expression completely unlike her mirror image. “That should keep you occupied and out of trouble while I have a look around.” Careful not to gaze at the hypnosphere herself, she made her way down the hallway. Taking the stairs down towards the basement, she paused, finding herself at a dead end. Hmmm. Nothing here. But the Intel I was sent said the entrance would probably be hidden. Removing a small hand held device from her pocket, she tapped a few keys, then pointed it towards the wall. After a few minutes, it began beeping, and a thin red line shot out, scanning the wall. Aha! There it is, she mused, pressing her hand against the newly illuminated panel on the side of the wall. At her touch, a gap appeared in the previously seamless wall, and the wall slid inward, revealing the doorway.

Hmmm. Nice. Nothing chintzy about this set up. Maybe this guy IS as tech savvy as my employer believes him to be. I’d better be on my guard.

Surprisingly, however, she encountered no further traps or security measures as she ventured down the narrow hallway into the lab. She glanced around, whistling appreciatively. Damn. What a set up! Does this guy work for NASA or something? Along with my fee for this job, I could probably retire if I stole the plans for half the stuff in this room! Shaking off her avarice, focusing on the job at hand, she walked over to the computer workstation. Sitting down, she removed the small case from inside her jacket, considering her options. If the computer is protected or encrypted, I might have a hard time cracking it. This is a time sensitive job, and considering the high tech gadgets in this room alone, it wouldn’t surprise me if the drive was set up to wipe itself at the first sign of tampering...

Moving the mouse, she blinked, mouth dropping open in surprise to find the computer terminal unlocked and logged in, completely ready to access. She shook her head in disbelief, chuckling. “Of all the luck... someone must have been accessing the system earlier and put it in standby mode instead of logging completely out. Oh well,” she said plugging her hand held PDA into an empty USB port, “looks like their loss is my gain!”

Bringing up a list of files, she scrolled through, making note of anything interesting, before stopping, and clicking on a file labeled ‘SAT-IMAGERY’. A click of a button, and a small panel in the leftmost wall opened up, revealing a biometric input panel. Ah. Security level just jumped through the roof. This must be what I’m looking for... and what I’m being paid so handsomely for. Scrolling through the information on her PDA, she brought up the file of users with access to the system. Hmm? No way... interesting. Wonder why a world famous rock star would have access... oh well. There! That’s who I need!

Walking over to the panel, a slight shimmer washed over her body. Her dark brown hair lightened and lengthened, growing longer and paler by the second, until it shone a golden blonde. Likewise, her facial features shifted, her nose shortening, becoming pert, eyes widening, becoming rounder, softer, and a hazel green. Her skin tone changed as well, trading it’s light golden tan coloring for a softer, olive tone. Finally, she shrank slightly, losing a couple of inches, stopping at an adorably cute five feet six inches. Smiling, the faux-Katie clone placed a hand across the hand print scanner, and leaned forward, peering through the retina scanner.

A bright but tolerable light shot through the scanner, and the girl bit her lip, resisting the urge to blink, letting it sweep freely through her eyes. Her shapeshifting ability was top-notch; given time to study a target, and access to a sample of their DNA, she could completely copy a person perfectly, down to the smallest detail, including how they spoke and how they moved. Physically, she was an exact copy of Katherine Ann Frasier, even down to her fingerprints and retinas. It was what made her such an excellent thief; after all, who could catch someone who could disguise themselves in an instant, and become virtually anyone at anytime. It was the secret of her success, and why she could get away with charging a million dollars per contract.

Thoughts of the money she would make on this job flitted through her mind as she was scanned, but was rudely interrupted as a bright red flash filled her vision, making her jerk away. “Error!” the computer panel read. “Inexact match. .0073 % variation in retinal scan detected. Please retry.” The thief chuckled ruefully. “Point zero zero seven three percent, eh? I’m impressed. No problem, I just need to focus.” Leaning forward again, she pressed her eyes into the scanner. Again, the bright but tolerable light shone into her eyes, scanning, scanning, scanning...

And the bright red flash blinded her again, forcing her to pull back. “What the fuck?” she growled, slightly pissed. “I know I matched it perfectly that time... ah, shit.” She glanced down at the panel. “Error! Retina scan completed. Palm print scan failed. Please initiate both scans simultaneously.” The girl groaned. “Goddammit. Forgot to put my damn hand back on the scanner. Alright, fine,” she growled softly, leaning forward yet again. “Third time’s the charm.“

* * *

I discovered something very interesting over the next several minutes. Having to actually TRY and do something hard really sucks. Sucks big hairy donkey balls. I stood on my tippy toes, one arm stretched out through the bars of the door, swinging my makeshift lasso a few times before letting it fly... only to have it bounce off the wall above the door release handle and drop down to the floor. Again. For like the eighteenth time now!

“Dammit!” I growled, turning away from the door in disgust. I wanted to kick something. If I had been wearing my boots, I might have risked it, but barefoot, I could only stand there and fume. I glanced at Whitney, who stood there, trying not to laugh. “Alright, smart ass, let’s see what YOU can do, then,” I grumbled, sitting back down on the bed. “My arm was getting tired anyway.”

“Sorry, Katie,” she replied, leaning out the doorway, making her own attempt to lasso the handle. “Heh. I seem to be saying that a lot these days, huh? Guess it kind of makes up a bit for all the times I didn’t say I was sorry.” She grunted, then cursed, pulling the lasso back to try again. “Fuck... this is a lot harder than it looks, huh?“

I nodded. Of course, that wasn’t always the case. This was, I suddenly realized, the first time I was truly without my powers... the first time that, no matter how dire the situation, some last minute, unexpected, lucky thing wouldn’t happen to somehow miraculously save my butt. I was on my own. If I was getting out of this mess, I would have to do it under my own mundane power. I walked back over to Whitney, then frowned, glancing at the bulge in her back pocket.

“Whitney? You have a cell phone!” I pointed out, exasperated. “Why didn’t you tell me you had your cell with you?”

“Because it doesn’t work,” she said, not bothering to turn, still focused on trying to reach the handle. “No service, no roaming, no nothing. Display won’t even... uuughnn!” she grunted, tossing the rope again. “...light up... dammit! I don’t know how long Sean Connery sat in that jail cell before he got this little trick to work, but at this rate, it’s going to take US a couple of years!”

I frowned slightly. “So... your cell phone is completely dead, then?”

“Yeah. And I know it was fully charged earlier today when I was at the movies.”

“Huh. Oh, yeah, that’s right. Siphon’s power cancels out any and all power sources in the area, not just the super human kind.” Crap. Once this was all over, I really needed to go back and brush up on Dad’s extensive library; I really needed a refresher course on which super villain had what powers. “Well, since it’s dead anyway, maybe we should crack it open, take it apart, and see if there’s anything we could use to maybe jimmy the lock—”

“Take apart my phone?!?” Whitney yelled, finally turning around to face me. “Are you nuts? No way! I’m not letting you break my phone! All my contacts, pictures, text messages... hell, half my life is on this phone! Besides, it’s mostly plastic and glass anyway... there’s not enough metal to be useful.“

“Yeah, yeah, you’re probably right,” I said morosely. “I’m sorry. I’m just a little... frustrated. I wish I knew what was happening out there. My mom is fighting for her life... she could already be dead, for all we know!” My chest seized at the thought. No... no way I was gonna let that happen. Not because of me. “Move over, Whit,” I said, determined, reaching again for the rope, “I’ve got my second wind. I’m getting us out of here, right now.”

“I hope so,” she said with a sigh, walking back over to the bed. “Good luck. You’ll need it.”

“Yeah,” I said murmured softly, focusing all my concentration the task at hand. “I know.” If I still had my little guardian angel, this would be a no-brainer. I’d simply toss the line with my eyes closed and somehow, some way, it would snag on the handle. Trying to rope it on purpose was ridiculously difficult, especially with the handle lying nearly fifteen feet away, against the wall I was throwing against. It kind of reminded me of playing basketball in gym class, trying to sink a basket from the side. Which I sucked at. Shooting from the front was fairly easy; if you couldn’t hit the basket itself, you could just bank it off the backboard. From the side, however, it was all about your aim...

Hmmm... backboard...

Well, why not? What have I got to lose, anyway? Pulling the rope all the way back in, I began coiling it up into a ball. “Hey, Whit, rip a few more pieces from the bed sheet will you? I have an idea.” A few moments later, I held my makeshift ball in one hand, just outside the door, trying to judge the distance. I tried to think of it like shooting a basketball... a very small, light, oddly shaped basketball made out of rope and scrap linen perhaps, but a ball nonetheless. If I’d taken a moment to think about it seriously, to consider the finer points of geometry or physics, the fact that I had no idea how much of a bounce the ‘ball’ would have against the stone wall, or all the angles in which it might land, I might have been discouraged.

Instead, I tossed it , doing my best, aiming for the space behind the handle, but muffed it instead, banking it off the edge of the wall, which spun it crazily to the side, into the adjacent wall... where it caught, the ragged cloth of the bed sheet cover snagging on an irregular indentation on the rough hewn stone. Sighing, I gave the roped a little jerk, intending to pull it free and haul it back for another try—and the ball pulled free, falling back against the wall, I’d originally aimed for, and bouncing just enough to drop the line between the wall and the handle! Exactly where I needed it to be!

“Holy shit!” I exclaimed, holding tight to the rope, barely daring to believe I’d done it. I pulled, slowly, gently, half afraid the ‘ball’ would unravel and not hook on anything, or get stuck too deep, in a position where I couldn’t pull the handle over. But, no... it was actually working! I pulled harder, and the rope caught, the handle moving back towards the open position, pulled one last time... and with a heavy metallic clunk, the lock disengaged, and the door to our cell swung open. We were free!

Sometimes, it’s better not to try and over think things, to stop listening to your head and just relay on your feelings!

“You did it!” Whitney said with a laugh, rushing over to hug me “You really did it! You’re so fucking amazing!” Her hand lingered along my waist, and soon the excitement and heat I felt from getting us free began to bleed into a completely different kind.

Sometimes, however, it is important to listen to your head, and keep those feelings from running rampant.

“Come on, Whit,” I said confidently, stepping through the open doorway. “We’ve got to go help my mom. Let’s get the hell out of here.”